Father. Academic Advisor. Musician. Writer. My real name is Jesse Balogh.
What kind of lies are you believing? What kind of thoughts are you perceiving? Who's coercing your hand to do that thing?
By Rowan Finley 7 years ago in Poets
Watching the world's grossest gore, I could not agree with you more, that change must come, violence is the ever beating drum.
Want to learn something intriguing? Look up the definition of the word breatharian. Don't get me wrong. There is a place for meditation.
Tap-tap-tap-ding goes the typewriter Tap-tap-tap-bring over some more paper Feel the rhythm Express the beat In your seat
Painful recollections flowed by as I stood on the tough rocks of life. If only I could forget all the painful, tear-inducing memories.
One day I prayed that God would give me a guardian angel, because I knew that He was good and always faithful. My words were more than intense,
Rapturous ocean waves collided with one another, causing ocean spray to jet up into the misty morning air. Blue eyes watched with purest admiration and pleasure,
I feel so pumped and ready for action Dripping with excitement Pulsing life and blood coursing through my veins I don't want to be confined or restricted
I felt excited but tired and sleepy at the same time. It would be so easy to slip into the kitchen and just eat something.
Do you like things to be loosey-goosey? Or, do you like things to be tighty-whitey? Do you like plenty of fabric to stash in your pants?
If only I had abs... everyone would stop and stare. If only I had abs... I sure would feel rare! If only I had abs... I'd look so great on the beach.
A poem written well is like an orgasmic release, may the carefully placed words of this poem never cease. Leaving you breathless and calm,
